Eyes Wide Open
by QuantamTheory
Summary: Soul just wants to sleep in on Saturday mornings.


Soul hated waking up early on Saturdays. Especially to yelling. Once upon a time, weekend-morning yelling meant Maka was about to drag him bodily out of bed to make him sort his laundry or finish some household chore that he'd neglected during the week. Now that she and Kid were together, Maka usually spent Friday and Saturday nights at The Gallows, leaving Soul to sleep to his heart's content.

Which meant he should be alone and made the noise all the more alarming. There was another yelp and Soul realized it wasn't Maka. It was definitely a guy, and it was coming through the wall between his bedroom and the bathroom. Why was there a strange, loud dude in their bathroom at seven in the freaking morning?

Soul crept into the hall, early morning light glinting off the blade forming at the end of his wrist. It was just his luck to have to take out a shrieking home invader before he'd even had a chance to wake up properly.

A loud "Ouch!" came from the bathroom and Soul realized it was Kid.

"Stop being such a baby."

Maka was in there too.

"It hurts!" Kid said sharply

"Well, it wouldn't hurt so much if you'd relax." Maka scolded. Some scuffling, huffing and heavy breathing followed.

Soul edged closer to the half-open door, wondering what the hell was going on. Not to mention why it was going on in _his_ bathroom. Kid had about twenty perfectly good bathrooms of his own to holler in, and Soul knew for a fact that he and Maka were supposed to be spending the weekend doing one of their many touchy-feely anniversary things. Probably the annual celebration of the first time they ever looked sideways at each other, or some other weird minutiae that made being in a relationship look like way too much work. And totally uncool.

Something fell into the bathtub. He hoped it wasn't his new texturizing shampoo because he wasn't sure if he'd closed the cap or not.

"Kid, I know this feels weird, but you said you wanted to do it. We're halfway done, so just let me finish. It's almost in!"

"Well, I don't want to do it anymore. It hurts. Take it out!"

Soul's eyes widened. What was she _doing_ to him in there? It sounded painful...and...and... _kinky_. His mind started wandering into places he did not want it to go. Especially when those places were inhabited by his partner and one of his best friends. Just...nope. He retracted his blade and cleared his throat loudly, hoping they'd stop whatever they were doing and finish getting their freak on somewhere else.

"Soul, help me!" Kid called.

Oh, fuck no. He was not going in there. Not in a million years. He said as much and Kid pleaded for help again. Soul groaned out loud. This was a fellow guy in dire need of assistance. His bro. The one he owed for making _most_ of his weekends mornings a sleeper's paradise. And Soul knew just how terrifying Maka could be when she had her mind set on something.

"Fine!" he slapped a hand over his eyes and groped for the doorknob, "I'm coming in!"

"Good, you can help me with this," Maka told him in her most determined voice.

He willing to face some horrors on Kid's behalf, but no way was he participating in them.

"Yeah, that's _never_ gonna happen." Soul fumbled his way into the bathroom and bounced off the hamper, "I'm not into weird shit like that. Especially with you. _Either_ of you."

"Weird shit? Why are you covering your face like that?" his partner sounded genuinely confused.

"I totally do not want to see what you guys are doing, I just want you to go do it someplace else. Besides, Kid really...uh... doesn't sound like he's into it. By the way, that better not be my shampoo that got knocked over in the tub."

"I don't think I am, but it's nothing you can't _look_ at." Kid promised, "And your shampoo is fine. It was some kind of leg-shaving stuff."

Soul took a hesitant peek. They were both fully clothed, thank god, but Maka was straddling her boyfriend on the closed toilet lid. And attempting to poke his eye out.

"What the hell, Maka?" he asked, "Whatever he did, it can't be worth blinding him for."

She made a disgusted sound, "He let me touch one eye, but not the other!"

"Because it hurts!" Kid whined.

"I'm not letting you touch either one of mine. Just in case you're thinking about it." Soul's lip curled in disgust, "Why do you want to touch _anybody's_ eye? Is this some kind of weird sex thing? Because if it is, you _really_ need to quit it."

Maka wrinkled her nose, "Ew. How would that be a sex thing? What is _wrong_ with you? I'm trying to put a contact in his eye. Look!"

She grabbed Kid's chin and twisted his head in Soul's direction. The eye closest to him was its usual gold, but the other was as blue as a summer sky. It completely creeped Soul out, and he told them so.

"I have two questions," he said, leaning against the wall and pushing his sleep-tousled hair out of his face, "Number one, why are you doing this and, number two, why are you doing it here? I'm trying to sleep; can't you torture Kid over at his house?"

"In reverse order: number one, I ordered the contacts and I left them here. We had to come and get them, and I didn't think putting them in would be such a big deal. Number two, we want to go out without everybody noticing us. The last time we went out, some bastard in San Francisco took a picture of us eating dinner and it ended up in a gossip column! It's happening more often, too. Nobody bothers us here, but when we leave Death City-"

She broke off and shrugged, but Soul had spent too long living and working with the woman to miss her fleeting look of frustration and sadness. He also knew she was checking herself, not wanting to make Kid feel guilty for their impeded social life.

Kid relaxed his grip on her sweater and rubbed protective little circles over her back.

"We'd like to be able to go places without everybody noticing us," he said wistfully, "Now that I'm eighteen, my dad's old media blackouts don't protect me anymore. We wanted to go the Smithsonian and out to lunch without getting hassled. I thought if I covered up my eyes it would help, but wearing sunglasses inside just draws more attention."

"Dude! Have you looked at your hair recently?" Soul asked incredulously, "Your eyes aren't exactly your biggest problem. And you're going through all this just so you can look at rocks and dead animals and crap? That is really sad, man."

He felt Maka's glare before he saw it. The one that, historically, was followed by an epic bitchslap. She rarely indulged in violence anymore but made the occasional, admittedly well-deserved, exception. He'd read somewhere that the bathroom was the most dangerous room in a house and now he believed it: there were potential missiles _everywhere_.

"I'm not making fun of you!" he protested, waving his arms in panic, "I promise, I'm not."

He stumbled over his words in his haste to stave off an attack. Maka's free hand was creeping dangerously close to the brushed steel soap dispenser next to the sink, and her hair dryer was within range, too.

"I meant it's shitty that you guys can't do something like go to a museum without people treating you like one of the exhibits. Gotta be hard."

Maka's hand retreated back to Kid's chest and Soul felt a wash of relief.

"It sucks," she agreed, "But it doesn't matter all _that_ much."

She popped the remaining contact lens into its little bottle of solution and then stroked Kid's face tenderly, "I'd put up with anything for you."

Soul studied the pair for a minute and sighed inwardly. He really, really wanted to go back to bed, but cool guys didn't bail on friends who needed them.

"Okay," he announced, "Maka, if you go make some coffee I'll handle this."

She thought about it for a moment, examining the proposal for catches but not finding one, "If you can do this I'll totally owe you."

"You already owe me for taking all the trash out on Wednesday." Soul replied.

She brushed past him a little harder than absolutely necessary on her way out.

"I do not! You're supposed to do that anyway, idiot. Have you checked the chore chart lately?"

"You have a chore chart?" Kid asked, "Never mind, of _course_ you do."

"I have a chart for _everything_." Maka said from the kitchen, "You ought to see some of the ones I keep on you!"

"What?!"

"There's a copy of 'Great Sexpectations' and a stopwatch next to the bed for a _reason_ , you know."

Maka waited a beat, smiling victoriously while she scooped grounds into the percolator filter.

"Does he look completely freaked out Soul?" she called.

"Uh, yeah. You could say that. Horrified is more like it." her partner replied.

"And are you revolted, shocked and embarrassed?"

"All that and more, thanks."

"Mission accomplished!" she jeered, raising her voice to be heard over the running water as she filled the pot.

In the bathroom, Soul rolled his eyes at Kid.

"How do you live with that?" he asked, pityingly.

The reaper smiled, unperturbed, "I love her. How do you live with her?"

"Same." Soul admitted with a rueful grin, "Okay, let's do this."

By the time the percolator had filled the apartment with the heady scent of cinnamon and caffeine, Soul had finished his work.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself!" he announced, dragging Kid into the kitchen, "What do you think, Maka?"

She turned around and almost dropped the cup she was filling.

"I, uh...wow," she stammered, staring, "that was, um, fast."

Two blue eyes looked back at her beneath a slouchy knit cap that hid the white rings in his hair perfectly. Soul had confiscated Kid's custom-made shirt and replaced it with a flannel over a t-shirt bearing the logo of an old 90's band. The result was startling, to say the least. He looked incredibly _different_ and she was shocked and attracted in equal measure. She suddenly understood why Kid had barely been able to keep his hands to himself the first time she'd attended an official event in a suit, heels, and little pearl earrings. Seeing him from such an alternate angle was definitely...enticing.

"How do you feel?" Maka approached warily, finding herself a little hesitant to touch him.

"Like I should be doing things ironically and saying "Bruh" a lot," Kid replied. Behind their cerulean overlays, his eyes sparkled mischievously as he felt her wavelength jump. Instead of meeting his gaze, Maka turned to Soul.

"How'd you get that other contact in so fast?" she asked, turning back to the coffee, "I didn't hear him scream even once."

Soul gave her a cocky grin and took a sip from the cup she offered to him. Cream and one sugar, just the way he liked it. He would have preferred drinking it from his favorite old mug, but when Maka served the coffee, there were cups, and they matched, and there were little spoons involved.

"I've watched Wes put in his contacts enough to know how to do it," he replied. He gave his handiwork another once-over.

"As long as you leave the hat on, even Liz wouldn't recognize you." he said proudly.

Kid thought about that while he sipped from his own cup.

"I'll have to cancel our lunch reservations at Fino," he told Maka, "I can't eat in there with a hat on. These clothes aren't exactly appropriate, either."

"You know exactly how much I give a shit about that," she said, finally daring to close in on him. She gave him a lingering kiss, and Soul was uncomfortably aware of the heat surging between them.

"I'm going to change too. We can go to some regular old place for lunch. I'll buy you a hamburger or something!" Maka dashed to her bedroom to ditch her demure skirt and sweater, obviously excited by the prospect.

"Doesn't take much to make her happy." Soul mused, "Unless that thing about the stopwatch was true."

Kid almost choked on his coffee, "It's not! At least...I don't _think_ so."

He wanted to deny it, of course, but bragging about his capabilities seemed ungentlemanly. Something Black Star might do. Luckily, Maka felt his discomfort and came to his rescue.

"I heard that!" she yelled through her half-open bedroom door, "And, no I don't have a stopwatch. I can only measure you in hours, Blue Eyes!"

"Okay, I've had enough of you guys," Soul announced, "I have done my good deed for the day, and it's not even eight o' clock yet. Take your oversharing to D.C. and let me go back to bed."

Maka came out, pulling her ponytail through the back of an olive green baseball cap.

"Couldn't help myself. Sorry," she said by way of apology, trying to hide her grin by bending down to cuff her jeans.

"No, you're not." Soul snorted.

She grabbed her battered black Converse low tops out of the hall closet. Her boyfriend took them from her and bent to slip them on her feet like they were glass slippers and Maka was some kind of Forever 21-brand princess.

"Yeah, you're right," she admitted, as Kid tied her laces, "But I am sorry about waking you up."

"And thank you for all this," Kid added, straightening up and gesturing at his transformed face.

"Now we both owe you one," Maka said, giving Soul a brief hug.

"You can pay me back by getting the hell out of here and letting me _sleep_ ," he huffed, but he put his arm around his partner and gave her a forgiving squeeze, "And you'd better figure out how to get those contacts on your own, because I am not gonna be happy if you come barging in here at two in the morning with another loud-ass crisis."

"Done." Kid promised, taking Maka's hand and opening the front door. Soul heard them giggling as they headed down the hall and sighed in relief. He put his coffee cup in the sink, stretched luxuriously and returned to his bed. He'd just gotten comfortable when his door slammed open and scared him half to death.

"Soul!" Maka exclaimed, "I almost left without reminding you!"

"Fuck! What? Remind me about _what_?!"

"Sort your laundry!"


End file.
